


A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

by Farbautidottir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farbautidottir/pseuds/Farbautidottir
Summary: Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall start the 1992-93 school year with a wretchedly uncomfortable dream. The kind they must remind themselves was only a dream whenever it creeps back into their minds. Most unfortunately, they do not share this dream with each other, for their dreams in fact provide the answer to that school year's most fretful question: What'sreallyhidden in the Chamber of Secrets?
Comments: 22
Kudos: 17
Collections: Cards Against Muggles Crack Fest





	A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of Hermione's Nook Cards Against Muggles Crack Fest.
> 
> The prompt provided two cards to form the prompt: "A dildo wand is really hidden in the Chamber of Secrets"

The 1992-93 school year was never going to be pleasant. It was a conclusion both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape came to the first of September when Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley turned up in the Whomping Willow by Muggle vehicle. Though the two professors never spoke on this mutual deduction to each other, they both arrived at it nevertheless in the same moment that evening. It happened just before each slipped into a fitful slumber—that moment between the flick of the “ _Nox_ ” and the start of the dream.

 _Dumbledore actually wants me to manage both Potter and that daft Lockhart. This year will be most unpleasant._ Severus thought with a resigned huff. He momentarily caught a glimpse of Lily in the back of his eyelids and then sleep overcame him.

Across the castle, in the dreary stone bedroom off her office, lay Minerva in her distinguished four-poster canopy bed. She required little from the Headmaster to keep on year after year at the magical school, but an extraordinarily comfortable bed was a steadfast requirement.

Her weary bones sank into the plush mattress and she released a small sigh as she thought, _Gryffindor is already off to an embarrassing start. And to think two students might have been seriously maimed—or worse—by that blasted tree! I can only hope Ginevra Weasley causes less trouble than Ron and the twins! This is certainly going to be an unpleasant year._ She closed her eyes and soon was transported to dreamland.

Had the two professors shared their dreams with each other, the entire mess of that year might have been avoided. For their dreams were so similar and so particular that they could truly only be deciphered as warnings. A beware of sorts. Unfortunately the content of the dreams was far too mortifying to share with anyone. It was the kind of dream you wake from feeling unclean. The kind you must remind yourself was only a dream. The kind that sneaks into your mind throughout the day, and undoubtedly in the least convenient of times for the rest of your life.

In the case of this particular dream for these particular professors, it went a step beyond uncomfortable. For when they woke next morning, both felt certain somehow that the dream was actually a lost memory. It was something they’d chosen unconsciously to forget, only to now be reminded it occurred. It was a distant memory though, just out of reach. A grasp beyond tactile context of the time and place. It lived in their minds as emotion and urge. As the shame and delight that so often accompanies pubescent discovery.

Both dreams started in the girls’ lavatory on the first floor—the one in the corridor above the Great Hall. Severus was fourteen in his dream whereas Minerva was fifteen. Both were upset, seeking shelter from the torments of the castle in the only place that truly was void of life.

The young Severus muttered out, “Festering imbeciles!” as he pointed his wand at the broken sink. He started to work out the wand motion for the spell he was inventing—Sectumsempra. He wanted to perfect it before practicing it on the wretched James Potter.

“Oooh Sevvy, you’re back! And what foolish wand waving is that?” the grating squeal of Moaning Myrtle echoed against the tile flooring.

“Myrtle, can you not see I’m trying to concentrate?”

“Always so tense, Severus! You need to relax more.” Myrtle gave a mirthful giggle that Severus knew could only mean trouble. “I know exactly what you need!”

“I need you to leave me alone,” Severus snarled.

“Poor, brooding Severus. Always alone. But I know exactly what you need! I have a secret, come here and I’ll tell you.”

Severus’ interest was mildly piqued. Myrtle was sitting on the broken sink now, her legs spread apart and a come-hither expression on her face. It was odd to think she was perpetually a teenager, when Severus could hardly stand being one for a school year.

“What is your secret?” he asked.

“Come here, I have to show you it.” It was a command more than a request, but Severus obeyed.

He reached the broken sink, Myrtle leering at him as she whispered, “Follow me.”

How Severus followed her, he wasn’t really sure. Like in most dreams, he suddenly found himself in another place. It was a damp, darkly lit chamber full of snake carvings. They were everywhere. It felt like a temple of phallic objects, everything so erect and cylindrical. He shuddered. Everything about it felt toxic, just like James Potter and his goons.

“It’s hidden just through there,” Myrtle tittered as she pointed at a very narrow slit in the far wall.

“What’s hidden?” Severus asked.

“What you need, of course,” she said breathily, leaving Severus even less certain about what he might find.

Meanwhile, in Minerva’s dream, she too found herself in the middle of the lavatory in a tizzy of indignant anger.

“If Lucy thinks she can just take all the credit for my work, she’s got another thing coming when we sit for O.W.L.s!” she roared into the chipped and warping mirror over the broken sink.

“That’s right! Lucy can burn!” Moaning Myrtle screamed drearily, storming from her cubicle to Minerva.

“Oh, Myrtle! You startled me,” Minerva said with a jump.

“You’ve never been scared of me before.” Myrtle pouted.

“I’m not. I’m just livid with Lucy!”

“I know exactly how to let out your anger!” Myrtle cried happily. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

Myrtle hovered over a hole that was where the sink once stood. Minerva looked down the black abyss. She wasn’t sure what happened to the sink, it simply vanished one moment to the next.

“That doesn’t look very safe.”

“Just think,” Myrtle squealed. “If you die, you can haunt that nasty little Lucy! Exactly how I haunted Olive Hornby!”

Minerva found herself now elsewhere, but it seemed natural she’d arrived there. It was a damp, dark room with a massive statute of Salazar Slytherin on the far wall. Myrtle was gone, but somehow, she felt drawn to the wall. A light shown dimly from its very narrow slit, enticing her inside its folds.

Just as Severus had in his dream, Minerva squeezed through it.

On the other side, they both found themselves in a cavernous space with a single item at its very center: a dildo wand. Each had approached it, cautiously picked it up for further inspection, and promptly become overwhelmed with sexual needs. They had found themselves naked and the room transformed into a space of soft luxury.

“Sev, I need you,” a voice called from a bed. When he looked, it was Lily Evans, completely naked as well, spread wantonly across the green silks that made her red hair blaze.

“Minnie, I didn’t expect to see you until the summer,” Dougal McGregor, the especially handsome Muggle boy from back home in Caithness, called from a bed of flannels.

Both Severus and Minerva went to their lovers, not worried if this was real or fake, and unleashed all their pent-up frustrations. When they woke in the morning, both blinked into the morning rays with confusion. _What even was that dream?_

By breakfast, both had shaken it and determined to go about their day and school year unperturbed by said dream. This went to plan until Halloween and the fateful writing on the wall.

“Well, it’s cockerel blood,” Professor Snape confirmed as he re-entered the teacher’s lounge where Professor McGonagall had called all the staff at Dumbledore’s behest. He’d just tested the blood down in his office with one of his own potions.

“Cockerels! Fascinating! Just my area of expertise! Yes, oh yes… this is making quite a good deal of sense already,” Professor Lockhart stated with smug enthusiasm.

“I found all me roosters dead, professor. All o’ them. Who would do such a thing?” Hagrid wailed.

Professor Sprout gave him a sad pat on the arm, snatching back her hand as he loudly blew his nose.

Professor Dumbledore organized their search of the castle and Snape and McGonagall found their paths cross a quarter hour later on the first floor over the Great Hall, at the girls’ lavatory that no one used.

“Have you searched here yet?” she asked as they went into the lavatory.

“Not yet,” Professor Snape said, his voice short.

When they saw the broken sink, both of them froze. Their minds were transported elsewhere, to the dream neither could really shake. It was vivid yet far away. _Had it even been in this bathroom?_ Neither was sure.

They stood there, transfixed by the sink until Professor McGonagall said, “Isn’t it funny how dreams can take you from one place to another without actually having to travel?”

Professor Snape’s stomach lurched. _Did she know about his dream?_

“I shouldn’t know anything about dreams,” he said to be safe. “I always take a potion for dreamless sleep.”

“I hear that can become addictive. You should speak with Madame Pomfrey about alternatives,” McGonagall said simply and exited the lavatory, relieved and disappointed she wouldn’t need to share her dream with Severus after all.


End file.
